


In the Quiet, You Will Find Me

by Wolveria



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, CEO Sebastian Stan, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Miscommunication, Pining, Porn with Feelings, Smut, Snowed In, Star's Multi Fandom Follower Challenge, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:54:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21617932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolveria/pseuds/Wolveria
Summary: The worst snowstorm to hit New York in a decade leads you to be trapped in your cramped apartment with your boss.No problem, right?
Relationships: Sebastian Stan/Original Female Character(s), Sebastian Stan/Reader
Comments: 28
Kudos: 369





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wheresarizona](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wheresarizona/gifts).



> For Star's Multi Fandom Follower Challenge!
> 
> Big shout out and thanks to Wheresarizona. She gave me the gift that is the idea of CEO Seb, and I kind of ran away with it. Apparently I am incapable of writing a one shot under 6000 words.
> 
> The soundtrack for this song is [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=02t4KKLnLQ0). It is very soft and wintery for a soft and wintery fic.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoy :) Come say hi to me on my [Marvel writing blog](https://trashmenofmarvel.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Warnings: Explicit sex scenes, alcohol use, cursing, mild anxiety

You blew out a breath, impatience settling on your shoulders like an itching weight as your car crawled through traffic. The harsh winds carried with it stinging shards of snow, unrelenting and quickly burying the streets in white. The impression of being deep in a tundra wasteland was further proven as some of the streets were devoid of light, a symptom of the unusual winter storm knocking out whole blocks of the power grid.

Not only were you wading out into the storm against your will, you were doing it on Christmas Eve. All because of _him._

The call that had hurdled your evening into disaster came a half hour earlier from your boss, Monica.

“He’s got no one else,” she’d lamented. Over the line you could hear a child’s whimper. “The car service got hit with the blackout, and the company refuses to send any drivers out because of liability issues. I’d do it myself but Dannie is sick. I can’t leave her like this.”

She hesitated. “And your car has four-wheel drive.”

Oh, how you wished that weren’t the case.

“Fine,” you had relented, rubbing your forehead with the palm of your hand. “Fine. But I want a raise.”

“Thank you,” she said, sincerity flooding her voice. “Really, I appreciate it. You’re saving my ass here.”

It was the only reason you were doing it. Monica was a great boss, the best you’d ever had. It wasn’t her fault that _her_ boss was the way he was.

Boyishly charming, handsome as sin, and funny in an awkwardly endearing way.

You hated him.

But he was also the CEO of the company you worked for, and your boss’ boss, so you had no choice but to put your life out on the line to go pick up “The Most Eligible Bachelor in Manhattan” because apparently _no one else_ could be bothered.

 _I’m going to get that fucking raise_ , you thought with gritted teeth, pulling the steering wheel into a slow right turn so you wouldn’t go skidding into a snowbank. The robotic feminine voice of your GPS flooded your speakers to tell you that your destination was just ahead. You squinted as you leaned forward, trying to see through the thick snowfall for the building you were looking for.

It wasn’t hard to spot: a majestic high-rise that housed A-list actors, glamorous models, and business moguls. You felt like you should be charged money just for looking at it, even if the top half of it was lost to the low-lying cloud cover.

After parking on the side of the street as close to the lobby entrance as you could get, you pulled your phone into your lap and brought up a new message, copying and pasting in the phone number Monica had texted to you. You took another deep breath and typed out the message _I’m outside_ and hit send.

You probably should have given a description of your vehicle—a cramped green Jeep with a hard top—but there wasn’t really a point. The storm made it impossible to detail colors, and you were the only one that didn’t have at least an inch of snow on top of it. Within the hour they might not even resemble cars anymore, but you were definitely going to be home by then, curled up on your couch with a nice hot cocoa as you put this infuriating man out of your mind.

Your phone chimed. _Be right there,_ the recipient responded. You disengaged the door locks and huddled down in your seat, still chilled as your car heater had only now started to warm the inside properly.

A dark figure approached the passenger side of the jeep, huddled against the ragging wind with a newsy cap pulled down over his face. By the time the door opened and he sat inside, he was covered in a fine layer of powdery white.

A layer which, of course, immediately fell off of him and into the interior of your car.

“Sorry,” he said, brushing himself off and wincing as more snow hit your floor. “I’m making a mess, aren’t I? And after you’re doing me this huge favor.”

He looked every inch the casual, cool, laidback millionaire. A thin black sweater sat nicely on his broad shoulders, black jeans that complimented his long legs, and a dark grey scarf wrapped, somehow very fashionably, around his neck. The cap on his head was a slate grey color, giving his whole ensemble what should have been a drab look. Instead, it made his brown hair, tied back in a short ponytail, look deep and rich.

His eyes, already a ridiculous pale shade of blue, were bright like crystals of ice against the muted colors. There was no denying it. Mr. Stan—or Sebastian, as he frequently reminded you to call him—looked really, really good.

_Ugh._

At your lack of response, he met you eye and offered a slow, almost-timid smile. “I hope I didn’t interrupt your evening.”

_It’s Christmas Eve, jackass, what do you think?_

“Nope,” you said, turning away from him and quickly putting the car into drive. “It’s no trouble at all.”

Silence filled the inside of your car like an overbearing perfume. Or, more accurately, like his subtle but familiar cologne. L’HOMME by Yves Saint Laurent, and you _knew that_ because you’d had to go out and pick up a bottle for a fundraiser when Monica hadn’t been available. It should have been a sign that he was a good boss by the fact that he would give Monica ample time off to take care of her three year old daughter, but that just meant you got saddled with the task of being his temporary PA.

It was also the reason why you didn’t need to ask him for his address or use your phone’s GPS to find his building. At least that meant you wouldn’t have to make conversation with him, preferring the awkward silence to stilted small talk.

The sight of his building couldn’t come fast enough, your fingers cramped from the death grip on the wheel as you turned down his street. You slowed the car to a crawl; yellow and orange lights were blockading the road, and you realized too late that his building was as dark as a towering mountain.

“Oh, no,” he groaned. “No, there’s no way—hold on, let me get out and talk to someone.”

You obliged, pulling the car to the side of the road, Sebastian barreling out before you’d even put it into park. You watched as he jogged through the snow drifts to reach the emergency workers, your stomach sinking as they shook their heads at him and gestured towards his building.

By the time Sebastian got back inside your car, the brim of his cap and the surface of his shoulders had acquired a fresh coat of snow. His cheeks were flushed and ruddy, but you couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or from distress.

“They won’t let me through. Apparently, the building has no power,” he said. “Whole goddamn block doesn’t, apparently. Shit.” He pushed his gloved fingers into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “I’ll have to call around, find a nearby hotel that’s still opened—“

“You won’t find one.”

He paused and looked up, blinking. Probably shocked at your audacity to interrupt him while he was talking.

You quickly looked away, staring up at the darkened building as if this whole debacle was its fault.

“They’re going to be full; the ones still open, anyway.” You internally winced, knowing you should probably do better at not sounding like such a hard ass. Your paycheck still depended on this guy. “Do you have anyone to stay with? Friends or relatives or something?”

He answered by also staring out of the windshield, his expression slack with helplessness.

“No. Everyone’s either out of town or busy with family.”

You felt an echo of his defeat on your own shoulders. You knew you couldn’t take him back to the residential building where you’d picked him up. You’d helped organize his itinerary for enough events to know that was his girlfriend’s building, and judging by the fact he’d left without any forewarning for his staff, on Christmas Eve, you could safely assume she had now been pushed into the exhaustive list of ex-girlfriends.

You tapped your thumb lightly against the face of the steering wheel. Were you really, _really_ going to do this? Panic rose in your chest at the crazy idea budding in your mind. What if he said no? What if he thought it was weird and just outright fired you?

What if, worse of all, he actually accepted?

“I have a spare couch,” you said, cheeks flooding with warmth from his sudden gaze on you. “It’s not much but should be fine until your power comes back on. Whenever that is. Could even be a couple hours from now and I can just come back and drop you off. It’s no big deal. I’m just offering because, I know my block hasn’t had any power issues. And, uh…”

Your voice petered away as the heat in your face reached unbearable levels. Oh, God, you shouldn’t have offered, you shouldn’t have said anything, what a fucking _stupid_ idea—

“You… are you serious?” The mild shock in his voice forced you past your shame. You studied his face, but instead of seeing his mockery or teasing there, his eyes were wide and his lips slightly parted. “I mean, are you sure?”

“Yeah. Course I’m sure.” You had never been less sure about anything in your life. “It’s only for a little bit, right? No big deal.”

He closed his moth with a plop and gave a small nod, but you didn’t miss the movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed or the way his eyes seemed to redden.

All you’d said was he could hang out at your place for a while and he was acting like a lost puppy you’d brought in from the proverbial storm.

 _Oh God. If he starts crying, I don’t know what I’m going to do._ Probably start in on your own waterworks. You were a sympathetic crier.

Before disaster could strike in the form of embarrassing tears, you pushed the gear into drive and made a U-turn when the street was clear. You could feel the ice and snow crunching under your tires, reminding you that it was a good thing Monica hadn’t attempted the drive in her compact little coup.

“Thank you. I mean it,” Sebastian said. “I don’t know what I would do otherwise.”

You shrugged, half as a casual gesture and half to try and get rid of some of the tension in your shoulders. “Like I said, no big deal.”

“But it is,” he insisted. “And I’m sorry again for interrupting your evening.”

His whole _nice guy_ act was really wearing your already threadbare patience thin.

“You didn’t interrupt anything. I was home, alone, just binge-watching shows.” You winced at how embarrassingly pathetic and lonely that sounded, especially for Christmas Eve.

“Now, see, I would have been completely annoyed if someone had pulled me away from that.”

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. Was he teasing or was that his idea of a joke? You couldn’t tell; he was just _smiling_ , his lips quirked up into a small grin you didn’t often see during the day-to-days of the office. Usually you saw him with his brows pulled together as he worked at his desk, or an intimidating frown pulling at his lips as he dealt with his obstinate board members.

That’s how most people saw him: an intense, no-nonsense businessman who took his role alarmingly seriously. It had taken you about give seconds when he had been alone with you and Monica to realize he was actually quite the odd duck.

Like… right now. Where you could tell he was still staring at you, and wished he would knock it off.

By the time you parked in the underground parking structure of your building, walked up to your lobby and continued ascending the stairs, you wished for the frigid winds outside to cool your face. You’d’ been hot under the collar ever since he’d aimed that smile at you, and you were experiencing some truly sincere buyer’s remorse.

Sebastian was on your trail, closer than you would have liked, but you also knew you were being an especially prickly asshole right now. You fished out your keys and inserted it into the lock, shivering as melting snow slipped down the back of your neck. Your sweater and jeans were spotty with cold dampness.

“Make yourself at home,” you said automatically when you were both inside. You winced but he seemed not to notice, already unwinding the scarf from around his neck and unzipping his jacket. He was wearing a form-fitting sweater underneath, the dark fabric clinging to him so tightly you swore you could have seen the individual planes of his muscles.

_Jesus Christ._

You quickly turned and practically stomped off to your bedroom, intending to change out of your uncomfortable clothing and gird yourself for a difficult evening. Your movements were jerky as you swamped your damp hoodie and jeans for an oversized sweater with black leggings.

What the hell were you going to do with _Sebastian Stan_ hanging around your apartment on Christmas Eve? What did one do to entertain a millionaire? It didn’t matter that you knew his schedule, preferences, and business credentials like the back of your hand. Knowing the ins-and-outs of a person because it was your job was one thing, having to get to actually know them as a human being was something else entirely.

Your throat worked as you felt an anxiety attack on the horizon. What if someone at work heard about this and got the wrong idea? No, no, that was a best case scenario—what if one of his competitors hired a PI to follow him and they were outside your apartment, taking pictures _right now?_

The pressure rose in your throat and you had to fight to breathe.

_Shut up, it’s fine, just chill, we’re fine, I’m fine, everything is cool, everything is good! We’re chill, nothing is happening and I am not freaking out, not at all, we’re FINE._

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, forcing yourself to focus on the sturdy ground beneath your feet and the soft pitter-pat of snow hitting your window.

A winter storm, the worst the city had seen in ten years, was raging outside right now. There were no private eyes hiding in the shadows. No paparazzi had followed your jeep back to your building. Everything was going to be just fine. You weren’t doing anything wrong, and it wasn’t a big deal.

Except for the fact… it absolutely was a big deal to you. Interacting with Sebastian rarely and from a distance was how you preferred it. On the occasions when he was up close and personal, turning that magnetic smile on you while his blue eyes sparkled with mirth, it made you have incredibly stupid thoughts.

Booze, you decided. Copious amounts of alcohol. That is how you would cope with this evening’s events.

_Perfect._

You left the bedroom and made a direct beeline to the kitchen, not looking toward the living room as you gathered your ingredients. You grabbed two mugs from the cupboard, the tin of powdered cocoa, and the bottle of vodka from the freezer. You had no idea how good this was going to taste, or how spiked Sebastian wanted his hot cocoa, so you refrained from adding the vodka as you warmed up the electric kettle.

“Are you hungry?” you called in his general direction, immediately cringing as you did so. It was only polite to offer, but you hoped he would say no so that the pathetic state of your cupboards could remain a secret shame.

“I’m good. Just ate, but thank you.” A pause. “I like your place. It’s cute.”

Read: cramped and sparse.

“Thanks.” You hoped he didn’t hear the lackluster quality of your tone.

The damned kettle seemed to take forever, and it had barely started whistling when you turned it off and poured the boiling water into the two mugs. Adding the powder and mixing it thoroughly, you threw in a few peppermint-flavored marshmallows. It was either going to taste horrendous or passable, but it didn’t matter much because you planned to drown the whole thing with spirits, anyway.

“That smells good,” he said as you carried the two mugs into the living room. You glanced down at him and nearly spilled the drinks.

Sebastian was taking up most of your couch, seated in the middle with his knees spread wide and his arms draped over the back as if he owned the damn place. You caught his eye and he gave a sheepish smile as he moved to one side, allowing you room to sit.

Swallowing down your nerves, you set the mugs on the cheap coffee table and pulled out the cold bottle of vodka from under your arm and planted it beside them.

“I didn’t know if you wanted to add any, but there you go.”

You didn’t ask if he liked vodka, because you knew he did. You knew all of his stupid preferences, ranging from clothing brands to food to alcohol. Even his cigarette brand, though he had quite some years ago. You knew all of these things, entirely against your will, because Monica heaped them on you when she had better things to do (which was 99% of the time).

She had even heaped the Secret Santa burden on you for the past three years of your employment. Every year the company did an anonymous gift exchange between employees, and without fail the unlucky soul who got landed with Sebastian’s gift ended up going to Monica for help. Monica would then proceed to heap the responsibility on you, forcing you to try and find a Christmas gift for the CEO.

In the end, it hadn’t been that hard. The guy was a founder of a toy company. His office shelves were littered with knickknacks, from superhero figures to dinosaur models to accurate models of the Milky Way galaxy. All you had to do was shop for him like you would for a ten year old kid, and bam, problem solved. At least, you hadn’t heard any complaints from Monica about your choices in gifts.

What stung though, what felt particularly cruel, was you probably knew this goddamn man better than you knew most of your family, and you could bet your meager bank account that he didn’t even know your birthday.

“Ohhh, a hot toddy on Christmas Eve? I haven’t done that in years.” He reached for his mug and the bottle, his tone nostalgic. “My mom made ‘em around the holidays and she’d sometimes let me taste them.”

You carefully sat beside him, keeping your distance as much as the small space allowed.

“Oh?” you found yourself asking. You couldn’t help it, your social anxiety made you latch onto whatever opportunity you could find to get him to keep talking so you wouldn’t have to.

He poured a generous amount of vodka into his steaming cocoa before placing it back on the table. You took the bottle and gave yourself a similar amount, though if you could have gotten away with it you probably would have drunk it straight from the tap.

“Mmhmm. I haven’t actually gone back home for a few years now. I probably should. Don’t know why I don’t, to be honest. Too busy, I guess.”

You glanced toward him past the lip of your mug as you drank, wondering at his frank candidness. You couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol yet. Maybe he was just bored and talking to you because you were, for all intents and purposes, a captive audience.

You wished you could have said you minded. His voice was undeniably soothing as he began to describe where he grew up and when he first came to the city. A lot of it was familiar territory to you, but combined with the alcohol burning your throat and warming your stomach, you found yourself lulled into a deeply relaxed state.

“What about you?” he asked, jerking you out of your groggy, lazy slouch. You had been staring past him out the window, watching the storm slowly increase in intensity.

“What about me?” You took another long sip, draining the rest of your spiked cocoa. “Not much to tell.”

You weren’t being modest, you fully meant it. You didn’t have an exciting history like he did. It was hard to top the story of a poor kid who had moved from Romania to the United States, found he had a talent for creating children’s toys, and eventually became the founder and CEO of his own multi-million dollar toy-making company.

“That’s not true. Everyone’s got a story,” Sebastian insisted. To emphasize, he knocked his knee against yours playfully. You tried not to scowl, or worse, make the mistake of letting a smile loose.

“Not everyone’s story is worth hearing,” you grumbled into your mug. “I came to New York, hoping to make it big. I didn’t. End of a story that’s been told a million times before.”

Your maudlin attitude was not enough to dissuade him, apparently.

“So you have a passion, then? What is it?” He seemed so sincere, making solid eye contact in a way that made you want to squirm away, burying yourself in the couch cushions.

You shrugged and looked down at your fingers after setting the empty mug back on the coffee table. Your vision slightly swam in front of you and there was a pleasant buzzing in your head. You were definitely feeling the alcohol coursing through your system now, and it was probably the only reason you answered honestly.

“I like to draw. Nothing too fancy, just sketches and crap,” you hurried to say when his eyes lit up.

“I bet they’re amazing. Do you have any here?” His smile grew to worrying proportions. “Can I see them?”

_Oh, for Pete’s sake._

“No. I mean, yes I do, and… I don’t know. Maybe later, if you still want to. I promise they’re not very good and it’s not nearly as interesting as it sounds. I’m a very dull and boring human being.”

He gave a light snort, amusement in the crinkles of the corners of his eyes as he tilted his head. “A boring human being wouldn’t know what to get me for Secret Santa every year.”

It took you a few seconds to fully comprehend what he’d just said, and then the bottom dropped out of your stomach.

“I… I didn’t…” Your words were halting as his grin grew wider. “I mean, only for the last three years… Monica wasn’t supposed to tell you that.” How could she do this to you? The _traitor._

Sebastian shook his head, still entertained going by the curl of his lips. “She didn’t, I figured it out on my own. Or, I guessed and you just confirmed it. Thank you for that, and for all the gifts. I loved them.” He tapped his finger along the back of the touch, the movement making you realize his hand was only a few inches from your face.

You tried your best to sink into the couch cushions.

“I know she hands off a lot of the responsibility to you,” he continued speaking. I don’t say anything because you’re really good at the more personal side of being a PA, and I’m a selfish person. Monica is a shark when it comes to my business contacts, don’t get me wrong, but… Do you know how many times she forgot I’m allergic to onions? It’s not that serious, I’m only mildly allergic, but I haven’t seen a single onion in my lunches since you started there.”

His teasing smile formed into something more soft and genuine. “You care in a way that’s easy to overlook, easy to miss. I think it’s… sweet.”

Mortification burned through your very soul. You stomach flopped, your cheeks burned, and you wondered how much a plane ticket out of the country would cost.

“I just pay attention, that’s all,” you offered weakly. “It’s not hard.”

“And yet, it’s more than ninety-percent of what most people do.”

You couldn’t meet his eye anymore. His slightly tilted head, the way his eyes roamed over your face as the corner of his lips tugged upward into a half-smile. It was too much for your brain to process, so you turned back to the coffee table and poured yourself a finger worth of vodka, straight into the mug. You didn’t care if he judged you for it; Sebastian was in your home, having the gall to shower you with compliments, and you were going to drown your anxiety and get through this evening with a sliver of your dignity intact.

“You give me too much credit.” You washed down your words, the vodka burning like bitterness in your throat.

“I don’t think so.” He elegantly folded one leg over the other, his long fingers fidgeting at the bottom cuff of his jeans. You frowned at the nervous gesture, and then remembered how you’d always thought he had really nice hands.

Your frown immediately deepened into a scowl.

“Well, I _do_ think so.” You refilled the bottom inch of your mug with more vodka, but when you tried to bring it to your lips, it was abruptly yanked from your fingers by the hand you had been fixated on a moment ago.

“You should slow down. What’s the rush?” His smirk was bad enough; he truly went over the line when he put the mug to his lips, and somehow while keeping eye contact with you, downed the alcoholic contents of your mug.

Your ears burned as if they were on fire, but you said nothing as he brought down the cup and traced his tongue along his lips, tasting the vodka there.

The moment the pink tip of his tongue disappeared back into his mouth, the spell broke. You scrunched up your nose and furrowing your brow as you snatched up the entire bottle and took a swig directly from the mouth.

Sebastian’s laugh was sudden and seemed to catch him off-guard. You immediately regretted your bold action as the alcohol burned at your throat, and you almost gagged as you pulled the bottle away.

“My house, my vodka,” you proclaimed with a stubborn jut of your jaw.

He eyed the hand that held the bottle, and you moved further away just in case he tried to go for it. Keeping an eye on him, you poured more vodka into your mug and pulled it into your hands, holding it against your chest possessively. A hint of a smile was on his face, and you could almost see the devious wheels turning in his brain.

“You know,” he said slowly, “there _is_ something about you that I can’t quite nail down.”

“Yeah?” You brought the drink to your lips, refusing to let him distract you from adding to the warm fuzziness that was filling your head. “What’s that?”

He rubbed at the day-old stubble that was starting to grow in on his face, but his eyes never left yours. “I can’t figure out what I did to make you despise me.”

The drink you had been taking got caught in your throat and you sputtered as the burn choked you. You leaned forward and coughed, almost slamming the mug back on the table as you massaged your throat. Karma exacting its revenge for you being too liberal with the booze.

A warm hand was on your back in a second, moving in soothing circles that felt entirely _too_ good for the situation, and your face burned with a heat that could have kept all of Manhattan warm.

After clearing your throat and gathering what was left of your dignity, you croaked out, “I _don’t_ despise you.”

His hand lifted away, and like an idiot, you immediately missed its comfort.

“Well,” he chuckled, wincing with a touch of self-deprecation, “you certainly don’t like me.”

You blanched. “No, I… that’s not it. I like my job, really. I wouldn’t even be able to live here if—“

“Wait, no, that’s not—“

He sighed heavily, leaning forward as he met your eye with a crease of his brows.

“That’s not what I meant. You’re not in trouble, this isn’t about that. Forget about the job for a second and be honest with me, or as honest as you want to be. You’re smart, capable, and I trust your judgement. If there’s a reason you don’t like me, then it has to be a good one.”

You blew air out of your mouth as you dragged your eyes to the ceiling.

“That’s the thing,” you said finally. “There is no good reason. You’re perfect.”

He snorted. “Come on.”

“I’m serious.”

Were you really going to tell him the reason it only _seemed_ like you hated him? You weren’t a self-delusional idiot, you knew exactly why you’d been acting standoffish and prickly towards him for the duration of your employment. You just hadn’t ever expected you’d have to explain _why_ —that he would even care to know.

He watched you with rapt attention, leaning slightly forward, close enough that you could smell the vodka and chocolate peppermint on his breath. It was a heady combination, and combined with the languid heat in your limbs, it crumbled the last of your defenses.

“You’re the goddamn nicest, most genuine human being I know. You’re kind to everyone, even the people who piss you off. You have the weirdest sense of humor but still manage to say the funniest things. You had a difficult life, and instead of hoarding all your money, you still come into work every day just so you can design new kids for toys. I mean, what _the fuck!”_

You spread your hands and gave a short, sharp laugh.

“And on top of all that, you’re insanely pretty? Like, you’re not a real person. I’m convinced you’re either a robot or you’re the greatest liar and conman in all of history.”

Sebastian stared at you for a long, long moment, his eyes narrow and head tilted in a plain look of confusion.

“And that’s… why you hate me?”

Your shoulders drooped as the air slowly deflated out of you.

“No, Sebastian. I don’t hate you.” You swallowed down the ache in your throat and turned your head away so you wouldn’t have to see the pity on his face when he finally understood. “The opposite.”

Stinging silence met your ears. Alcohol had been a mistake; not only could you not keep your mouth shut, you could feel the burn of your eyes as you failed to keep your emotions in check.

No, no, the vodka wasn’t the problem. This whole _evening_ had been a mistake. What the hell had you been thinking, inviting him here? He would think it was some kind of ploy, a trick. You should have let him find a hotel on his own, even if you were right about them having no vacancies.

You should have let him deal with the consequences, like an adult, and not gotten involved with—

Sebastian spoke your name, and you turned to face him without a mote of hesitancy.

He was much closer than he’d been a moment ago, his eyes disarmingly gentle. You froze like a deer in the headlights as his breath tickled your face.

And just like that, his lips on yours, hot and full and pressing down. They were unbelievably soft, and the way he _tasted,_ it was better than you ever could have imagined.

A warm wave flushed through your body, leaving you feeling weightless and tingling in its wake.

Then you panicked, muscles going rigid, your heart thudding wildly. Sebastian must have sensed it because he pulled away, only a few inches but it was enough to let in the cold.

His eyes searched yours and he quietly asked, “Too much?”

You knew you should say no. You knew who he was, how quickly he went through romantic partners, and this moment was probably nothing to him. A way to fill the time and occupy his boredom.

But that’s not what it was to you. Three years. Three _years_ pining for this man, purposefully keeping him at a safe distance because you knew as soon as you let him get close, you would have no choice but to let him in.

Three years of wishing for an impossible moment like this one.

“No,” you said in quiet surrender. “The opposite.”

The smile that crossed his face was slow and warm, and his movements were more careful this time as he leaned forward and met his lips to yours

You were stiff, awkward—you hadn’t done this in a long time—but the way he kissed you filled you with more staying warmth than the liquor. Your muscles slowly relaxed as your lips became pliant with his, and encouraged, he prodded your lips with his tongue at the same moment he cradled the back of your neck in his hand.

Fire ignored low in your belly and you surged against him, leaning into his touch, feeling the hard planes of his chest and stomach as he gently pushed you against the couch cushions.

He followed you down, never breaking contact as his tongue licked into your mouth, long fingers curling against your hair as he settled his weight between your legs. You wrapped your arms around his waist, seeking the skin-to-skin contact you thought you’d never had, and your fingers finally found it as you slipped under the hem of his sweater.

Sebastian gave a start and broke the kiss with a laugh. “Oh, my _God_ , your hands are freezing.”

“Poor circulation,” you responded automatically, pulling your hands further up his back, fingertips roaming over the firm muscles there. “Sorry,” you added, not feeling very sorry at all.

He gave you a pointed smirk before reaching down and tugging off his sweater, pulling off his shirt along with it. Your hands immediately went for his ample chest, greedily tracing the lines and curves there.

“I wanted to take it slow,” he said, softly brushing a few strands of hair out of your face, “but you’re making it difficult.”

“Then don’t.” Your hands moved up his neck and cupped around his jaw, taking the lead and giving you courage. You didn’t know who this brave person was or how she could say the things she was saying, but you knew what you wanted. You’d always known. “Don’t go slow.”

The lines of his brow went from soft tenderness to a searing intensity within seconds, almost too fast for you to prepare as his lips crashed against yours. This kiss was nothing like the previous one; before he had been careful, as if savoring your taste, and now he worked as if to devour you.

Your arms wrapped tightly around his neck, fingernails scratching against his scalp. Sebastian’s groan was muffled but urgent as he rolled his hips, grinding his erection against you. Your fingers tightened in his hair, your thighs squeezing his hips, and next thing you knew his hands were raking down your body, pushing up your sweater around your waist and grabbing the hem of your leggings.

With a quick, expert movement, he pulled them down your thighs and over your knees, tugging them off the rest of the way. You shivered from the exposure to the cool air of the room but he didn’t leave you cold for long. The sound of his buttons being undone and his zipper pulled down, followed by the rustle of rough fabric as he pulled off his jeans, was like a direct jolt to your nervous system.

Sebastian was still wearing a pair of dark boxer briefs, but that was all. Only a thin layer of cloth separated you from going to a place you had never intended to go, but now that you were here, you couldn’t imagine wanting to be anywhere else.

Your hands moved down his shoulders to grip his arms tightly, but he mistook it as a signal to stop because he paused and stared down at you, a question in his eyes. Your answer came in the form of lifting your head to meet his lips, tasting him between your teeth as you wrapped your leg around his thigh.

He groaned and responded swiftly, opening his mouth to you as his fingers traveled down your thigh, pulling you tighter around his hips. He proceeded to wedge his hand between your bodies, and slipped his fingers under the waistband of your underwear and cupped your mound.

You surged up against his hand and he chuckled deep in his throat. His fingers dipped between your folds, brushing over your clit as they moved to your entrance. You whined, wanting your attention back on the sensitive nub. Sebastian smirked against your lips and pushed in, long and deft fingers moving past the tight muscles until he was knuckle-deep.

Breaking the kiss you gasped for breath, your overworked body demanding oxygen. Sebastian kept his mouth occupied, planting kisses along your jaw until he reached your neck where he latched onto the skin and started to suck.

You barely had time to adjust before his thumb was on your clit, rubbing circles there as he also stroked the sensitive bundle of nerves on the inside of your wall.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” you gasped, feeling yourself tighten around him already.

Sebastian didn’t stop there, apparently not satisfied with reducing you to soft curses; with his other hand sliding up your sweater, he cupped your breast and rolled his thumb over the pert nipple.

There were too many sensations at once from too many points, and you gave a pathetic whine as you bucked your hips against him, practically rutting yourself against his hand.

Maybe you should have been mortified at your reactions, but all you wanted in that moment was for him to give you the release you sought.

“That’s my girl,” he rumbled against your neck. “Come on, sweetheart. You’re right there, I can feel it.”

The pet names uttered in such a throaty, sinful tone, combined with the skillful ministrations of his hands, made it impossible to stop the inevitable. The wave slammed down onto you, filling your mind with electric static and leaving you without breath. You clenched tightly around his fingers, each press of his thumb on your bud sending a new wave through your lower belly.

Sebastian gently mouthed at your neck as you came down from your high, the light scrape of teeth on your skin pulling a weak moan from your throat. One hand moved off your breast to lightly hold your side while he slipped the other out of your panties. You winced at the feel of the cold, damp material.

“You made me… ruin my underwear,” you managed to stutter.

Sebastian gave a satisfied hum in his throat. “If it’s any consolation, I think you ruined mine too.”

He pulled back enough so you could see him taking his fingers, the ones that had been inside you, and without a moment’s hesitation he wrapped his tongue around them and licked off your juices. As if that weren’t enough, he stuck them in his mouth and pulled them out with a wet, indecent _pop._

If you were the kind of individual who could make witty retorts on the fly, you would have done so. Instead, you breathed out a weak, _“Jesus Christ.”_

He answered by running his tongue over his lips and then broke out into a grin. “Why are you making that face?”

“Because you’re ridiculous,” you said, breathless and obviously a liar. “And I’m not making a face.”

“Yeah, you are.” His smile faded quickly, replaced with creased brows and his eyes sharpening. “I know what would help with the case of the ruined underwear.”

Before you could respond, as if you truly could have to that, he leaned on one arm and pulled down his boxer briefs with the other, entirely stripping them off. He hooked his fingers around the waistband of your underwear and arched a brow, teasing but still asking for permission.

Without speaking, you lifted your hips and pulled off the damn panties yourself, pleased with yourself as Sebastian’s eyes widened. You cradled his jaw in your hands and pulled him down, catching his lips on yours and taking out all your frustration at his taunting by hooking your leg around his hip.

He went willingly, covering your body with his warm weight, the hard strain of his bare cock rubbing against your clit a cruel torment. Frustrated, you tilted your hips up, practically grinding against the underside of his cock. Sebastian gave a sharp _“mmph!”_ and grabbed your hip, pushing you back down against the cushions.

You broke the kiss and glared up at him, too worked up to even properly expression your irritation. Sebastian only smiled and said, “Good to know there is a limit to your patience. For a while there, I thought you were a saint.”

“I have _plenty_ of patience,” you answered, cheeks on fire. “I just…”

 _No._ You weren’t going to say it.

“What?” he asked, head tilted curiously to the side. “Tell me. C’mon.”

Okay, you were going to say it. He’d already made you come on his fingers, saying a few words should have been easy by comparison.

You exhaled through your nose and met his curious gaze. If sincerity is what Sebastian wanted, that’s what he would get.

“I just… want you.”

There was more to it than that, so much more you wanted to say, but those words were the best you could do.

Sebastian’s expression went very quickly from amused to disconcertingly intense, and his mouth was back on yours with full-force. His fingers dug into your thigh as he lifted it higher, and then he was _pushing,_ stretching you open and filling you with a heavy heat.

Being as wet as you were made it easy for him, but you were still tight from your last orgasm. When he finally bottomed out, you shivered hard at the intense pressure.

Sebastian didn’t say anything either, breathing strained against your neck. Then he turned his head and pressed his lips firmly against your pulse-point, murmuring, “I’ve wanted to do this… for a really long time.”

“Me too,” you said quietly.

You felt the smile against your neck, the affection press of his nose against your skin. And then he began to roll his hips and all the thoughts flew from your head, chasing away all your worries and self-doubt. Your gripped him like a lifeline, unable to get enough as your hands roamed over the expanse of his back and tangled in his hair. The hair tie that had kept it in a short ponytail at the nape of his neck and gone missing at some point, and your fingers curled into his freed locks, pulling him into desperate, longing kisses.

The pressure was building, slower this time but with so much more intensity behind it. He was close too, his voice hitched and breathless in your ear. “Where… do you want me to…” His muscles were strained, his pace stuttering as his strokes became shorter and firmer.

You were barely coherent, mind and body drowning in the tightening of your core. “Inside,” you gasped out.

Sebastian groaned, picking up the speed of his motion, and you crested over the peak within seconds, crying out into his shoulder.

He chased his own orgasm, pressing his hips down on yours as gripping you tightly as if for anchorage. You felt a deep pulse resonating as he spilled inside you, his fingers trembling while his breath was shaky against your neck. He gave a belated moan, followed by a soft, _“Fuck…”_

You both lay there, panting to catch your breaths, basking in the pleasant afterglow. You were sticky with sweat and cum, but you felt lazily content to stay right where you were. Sebastian’s head was nestled into the crook of your shoulder, his nose pressed against your neck.

He released a heavy breath. “Wow.”

“Mmmm,” you hummed.

“That was…” He trailed off.

“Uh-huh,” you responded helpfully.

He laughed, proceeding to groan as you actually _felt_ his cock twitch inside you. He leaned off of you carefully pulled out, a wince on his face that you could commiserate with. You were oversensitive as hell yourself, and you knew you would be sitting funny for a day or so.

“Yep, I think that’s… enough for now.”

“For _now?”_

He flashed you a bright smile but said nothing as he stood up from the couch. Confused, you followed him with your eyes as he went to grab the tissues off your coffee table. All thought of argument flew out the window at the sight of his unfairly perfect, round ass.

By the cat-that-caught-the-canary smirk on his lips, he knew exactly what the fuck he was doing.

“Definitely going to need a shower later, but these will do _for now_ ,” he repeated smugly.

You took the proffered tissues from him automatically, your mind still reeling from the implications. “You… you want to… keep going?”

His smile lost some of its swagger, uncertainty reflecting in his eyes.

“I mean, unless you don’t want to. We can stop, that’s totally fine, I don’t want to pressure you into anything—“

“No, no, I _want_ to.” You looked away, chewing on your lip in nervous habit. Despite the fact he’d just come inside you, the sight of his earnest sincerity was the thing that made you blush like a virgin. “I enjoyed it. It was… really nice,” you finished flimsily.

“Okay, good. That’s good. Great, even.”

The enthusiasm was back in his voice and you couldn’t help but smile a little. How he could possibly want sex after you were ready to pass out from exhaustion, you didn’t know.

You were jarred from your thoughts when Sebastian pulled the blanket from off the back of the couch, quickly wrapped you in it, and pulled you to your feet. He then bent down and picked you up, bridal-style, into his arms.

You squeaked indignantly and scowled up at him, conveniently ignoring how strong he was and the way it went straight to your core.

Then he kissed the tip of your nose. The annoyance drained out of you so fast it was almost funny. He seemed to think so, going by the tug at the corner of his mouth.

“So,” he mused, tilting his head, “how many times do you think I can make you orgasm before the storm ends?”

You gaped at him. Sebastian pressed his lips together in a fairly good pantomime of serious thoughtfulness, and said, “Seven? Eight? We can do six, for sure.”

“You’re joking.”

“Never been more serious in my life,” he deadpanned as he carried you to the bedroom.

With surprising gentleness, as if you were made of fine glass, he laid you down on your bed and slipped under the blanket with you. Despite your voiced skepticism you snuggled up to him immediately, shivering pleasantly as he pressed light, faint kisses along your jaw.

You knew there would be consequences, things you would have to face come the next day.

But tomorrow was an eternity away. The snow would continue to fall, and it would just be the two of you, alone in a quiet world of soft, unending white.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back. Oh you thought we were done with this story huh?
> 
> Warnings: Sad puppy-dog eyes, anxiety, misunderstandings, angst with a happy ending, sexy times because hello, it's me

You refused to let the tears flow today. You didn’t want them to flow while you were packing. While you were picking up your old life and depositing it into neat, tidy boxes, storing it away to be later revealed in a new, strange place.

You wouldn’t let them fall, because if you did, that meant you were thinking about _him._

Christmas evening had been more than magical, it had been perfect. Sebastian had been true to his word, testing how many times he could make your toes curl as your body thrummed like an electric wire.

In between those moments, made sweeter by his earnestness, you had shown him your drawings. Landscapes of the city, vast and expansive, while others were myopic snapshots of little moments captured in the course of the day. Strangers walking by, consumed in their own worlds but no less interesting because of it, scarves wrapped around their mouths and throats to give them a mysterious appeal.

Your personal favorites were of the animals that somehow survived in the sometimes merciless metropolis. Wary, hardened street cats, aggressively cooing pigeons seeking forgotten morsels, and the ducks and geese in Central Park during the summer when the lakes were unfrozen.

You thought they were childish and silly. Sebastian had thought they were riveting.

Something wet and warm on your face; you already knew what it was from the burning of your eyes. You eradicated the tears with a frustrated swipe and went back to packing up the evidence of your meager life.

When your aching back and rumbling stomach forced you to take a break, you checked your phone out of habit, forgetting you had turned it off. You stared at the dead device in your hand, chewing on your lip as you deliberated. With a press of your finger, you brought it to life.

Twenty-two unread texts. A similar amount of missed phone calls, along with a handful of voicemail messages. Many of them were from Monica, but most of them were from Sebastian.

Like a person possessed, you couldn’t stop your actions as you opened the messages and scrolled through some of them.

**Monica: _Are you sure about this hun??? Even tho you signed the NDA and gave your notice, you can change your mind. I’ll make it work._**

**Monica: _Hope you’re doing ok. I’m worried about you. Did something happen?? I feel like I never should have asked you to pick him up._**

Her last two messages were sent a day later, the anger blazing through the letters.

**Monica: _I know you wouldn’t quit without a reason. What did he do._**

**Monica: _Please tell me what he did. Forget HR and the company lawyers, we’ll go to another firm. Whatever he did, he’s not getting away with it._**

These last texts sent you into a panic, and you broke your communication hiatus to send back a few quick texts.

**He didn’t do anything. Promise. I’m just ready for something new. Thank you for worrying about me but I’m fine.**

It didn’t sound as convincing as you’d hoped, but you didn’t have the energy to put on a convincing act. At least this way, you hoped she wouldn’t sic a team of lawyers after someone who didn’t deserve it.

And he didn’t deserve it. You could see that from the very last message he had sent.

**S. Stan: _Please, say something._**

You clicked off the screen with a shaky press of your thumb and set the phone down, out of sight and out of mind. You had hours left of packing to do, planning to fill up the rest of your New Year’s Eve with packing and storing. You deserved a respite from the man whose face occupied your thoughts and tormented your sleep.

Even now, as you tried to focus on frying a grilled cheese sandwich on the stove, your thoughts strayed to that magically snowy night trapped in your apartment and the following Christmas morning. Your chest tightened as you remembered how perfect he had looked, standing right where you stood now and cooking breakfast for you both. As easily as if he belonged there. Afterwards, you had cuddled on the couch under the blanket, as if you did it every morning after breakfast.

On the drive back to his building—after he had called to confirm the power was back on—the vestiges of unease had crawled up your spine. You’d shaken it off, figuring it was nothing more than your usual paranoia and low self-esteem. Outside of your apartment, away from the timeless bubble the two of you had created, reality had crept back in, as had your doubts.

You had pushed it away—how could you not, with Sebastian sitting right next to you, the warmth in his eyes and the softness of his smile chasing away all your fears?

After you had pulled up to his building, he had turned to you, the light in his eyes dimming as he fixed you with a serious stare, reciting the words that had sent you on your current tumultuous course.

“We can talk about this later. Okay?”

The smile had been frozen on your face as your thoughts had ground to a halt.

Sebastian hadn’t seemed to notice, and he leaned forward to press his lips to your temple, and with a quick exit into the frigid world outside, he was gone. That perfect moment had been shattered into a thousand fractal pieces.

_We can talk about this later. Okay?_

You weren’t an idiot. You had done the unthinkable, slept with your boss like a cringey cliché, and now he regretted his actions. There was no pleasant vodka buzz to gloss over the fact you were, in fact, two people from very different stratospheres.

And now, it was time for the “talk.” No, you weren’t an idiot at all; you knew _exactly_ what that meant. If anyone caught wind of what had happened, it would be all over the media in a shitstorm of bad PR and ugly accusations. You saw stories about it all the time, men in power taking advantage of the women who worked under them.

It didn’t matter that that’s not what happened, it was how the situation would be perceived. Sebastian’s reputation would take a hit. Even if he weathered the storm with nothing more than a little smudge on his name, your career in New York was over. You would be shamed, blacklisted, and pegged as a duplicitous woman that would sleep her way to the top.

All of these truths had crashed down on your as you’d driven back to your apartment, your vision becoming so blurred you’d had to pull over to get yourself under control. It was then you had decided there was only one thing to do, to save both Sebastian’s reputation and your chances of ever becoming a paid artist in the city.

You had to quit, and so… you had. Quietly, without fanfare, you gave your notice from your laptop, never stepping foot out of your apartment and taking the chance of seeing his face at the office. You had known what you had to do but running into Sebastian would have shattered your resolve and further broken your heart.

You stared at the sizzling grease in the frying pan, your stomach turning, as it had so frequently done the past week. You knew how it would go, could already hear the conversation in your head.

_That night was fun, really fun, but I could get in trouble. People might get the wrong idea if this gets out. You don’t want that, do you? This is better, for both of us, if you find a new place of employment. And, hey, I can give you a great recommendation…_

Your stomach gave another rebellious heave. You flicked off the burner and roughly dumped the pan into the sink, biting your lip hard, but it didn’t matter; the hiccupping sob escaped, anyway.

 _I hate him,_ you told yourself. Tried to convince yourself you believed it. It didn’t work, and you wished it did. Maybe it would hurt less if you _could_ hate him.

Lunch abandoned in the sink, you turned back to the shattered pieces of your life, and continued to pack them away.

***

You sat on the floor, back against the wall, and stared morosely at your phone; your TV and couch had both been put into storage, so you had to make due as you watched Times Square live. The glittering ball hung poised in the air, even if it was a whole hour until it would drop and the New Year would be rung in with the sound of cheers, music, and sappy moments captured on camera between enthusiastically groping couples.

_Ugh._

The only thing left to complete your night of misery and self-pity was a bottle of rosé that sat untouched on the floor in front of you. You’d forgone a glass, planning to drink the damned thing straight from the source.

You hadn’t. You hadn’t had a drink since _that_ night. Every time your eyes wandered to the bottle, you remembered the warmth spreading through your chest as Sebastian smiled at you, teasing you with those bright eyes and plump, curled lips.

With an abruptness that left your head spinning, you grabbed the neck of the bottle and launched to your feet, sped across the living room, and shoved the bottle into an open box.

The resounding knock on your door startled you so bad you nearly tripped over the box you had just closed.

The _fuck?_ Who would be knocking on your door on the cusp of the New Year? You’d already tidied everything away with the leasing office, you hadn’t ordered in for days, and you had never been social enough to make friends with your neighbors.

You couldn’t guess who was on your doorstep, and yet, as you approached and reached out for the door handle, your heart was beating a panicked rhythm in your chest.

You pulled down, opened the door… and couldn’t breathe.

Despite the late hour and the brutally cold conditions outside, he looked as fashionably kempt as ever. Dark hair swept back into a ponytail at the base of his neck, a grey cap on his head, and the dark winter ensemble making him look like he could have just stepped off the set of a magazine shoot.

The widened, puppy-dog expression only made the entire thing that more endearing, and after the initial shock of seeing Sebastian on your threshold wore off, you felt the first hints of anger.

“I tried calling,” were the first words to tumble out of his mouth, the rest following like spilled water. “Texted, too. I didn’t want to bother you, Monica already snapped at me for pestering her, but I can’t— _why?”_ he blurted, interrupting himself. “Why did you _quit?”_

Before you could swallow to speak past the tight pain in your throat, his eyes wandered over your shoulder and widened.

“Are those… moving boxes?” His voice was faint and smaller than you’d ever heard it before. Devastated.

The anger rose higher in your chest, fanned by the stinging of your eyes. Your fists clenched at your side as you struggled to breathe. It wasn’t _fair._ Why was he here? Doing this _now_ when you had been so close to finally letting him go?

Your silence hadn’t escaped him, and when his blue eyes descended back on your face, they glassy and red-rimmed.

“What’s going on?” he asked in that same soft, shattered tone, and _fuck_ , it was killing you to hear him sound that way, even now.

“Sebastian,” you implored in a hollow, lifeless voice that didn’t sound like you at all. “Please don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”

“Make what harder?” He searched your face, desperate and pleading with his words. “I don’t understand. Did something happen?”

You looked away, unable to meet his eye when he was looking at you as if his whole world was crumbling. Why was he doing this to you? Acting as if _you_ were the one who had ended this before it could ever truly start?

“Can…” He swallowed hard enough for you to hear it, the strain in his voice palpable. “Can I come in? Please?”

 _No,_ you wanted to say, even as your heart declared the opposite. Already, you could feel yourself caving, finding an excuse to let him in, telling yourself that it wouldn’t look good to the neighbors to argue in the hallway. If someone recognized him…

You moved aside, keeping your back against the door as you gave him silent passage. With shoulders hunched and brows creased, hesitant as if stepping into hostile territory, he moved past you across the threshold. He didn’t pause until he was in the living room, his eyes heartbreakingly wide as he took in the full extent of your mostly-empty apartment.

You closed the door so softly the lock didn’t make a sound, and you remained with your back to the wood, a hand curled around the handle as if in reminder that you had an escape route right there if you needed to take it.

Waiting for him to speak, you kept your eyes to the floor. It hurt too much to look at his face and the confused, fallen expression you had glimpsed there.

“I don’t understand.” His voice was quiet but the hurt in it was louder than a shout. You flinched as if he had. “Did I… do something?”

A ruffling noise drew your eyes upward to catch him running a gloved hand through his hair, the ponytail at the nape of his neck already loosening from its tie.

“Of course—of course I did something,” he answered his own question, dazed as his blue eyes finally met yours. “It was me, right? The reason you quit. I did something wrong, I fucked it all up. Please, just…”

He took several steps toward you. Your spine straightened and you pressed your back instinctually against the door. Sebastian stopped in his tracks, his wounded puppy-dog expression so plaintive it panged deep in your chest.

He spread his gloved hands, slowly as if not to spook you. “Tell me what it was. Tell me, so I can fix it. Please.”

Something thin and fragile snapped inside you, and you said the words, small and broken, before you could stop.

“You were going to ask me to leave.”

His lips parted, his eyes widening.

“I—what?”

You took a breath, shaky and not filled with enough air.

“You were going to tell me to leave. To quit.” Your voice was shaking but you continued on regardless. “That’s what you—you wanted to talk about, right? To get me to quit.”

He released a small, confused noise and said, “Well… yes.”

The pain hit you harder than expected, stabbing into your chest like a thin spear of jagged ice. You thought you had been prepared to hear the truth, and now you wished you could take it back, feeling if he said anything else you would simply die on the spot.

Sebastian continued speaking, apparently unaware that he had taken your heart, thrown it onto the ground and carelessly stomped on it.

“I was going to ask you to quit so that I could hire you as an independent contractor.”

Now it was your muscles that went lax and your mouth that partially opened in blatant confusion.

“You…what?”

He shuffled his feet, his fingers now fidgeting in front of him as he met your eye with a nervousness you’d never seen around the office.

“Mackie is always going on about how I need to allocate my workload better. That I take on too much and don’t ‘outsource’ the help I need. He’s right, the guy is right about damn near everything.” He gave a self-deprecating huff and a wince in response at the mention of his business partner. You’d always liked Mr. Mackie, and from what you’d seen of Sebastian’s work schedule, you knew he was right about being overworked.

But that still didn’t explain—

“I’ve wanted to do a new toy line for a while now, something with plushy animals, it’s always been popular with young kids. But I put it off because I haven’t had the time, and I didn’t trust anyone else with something as important as visual concepts, and then, when I saw your drawings…”

Sebastian gave a helpless shrug, his eyes pleading as they sought out yours. When you said nothing, because your brain was no longer functioning, he bit his lip and took a step closer.

“I… I was intrigued. I asked Monica for the paperwork you submitted on hiring—not the personal stuff, just your art portfolio. I don’t know why I hadn’t seen it before, I’m such an idiot for missing it, but it’s… I mean. It’s exactly what I’ve been looking for.”

He stared at you, for so long and so sincerely, that you forced your lips to move and form the only words you could think of.

“You… wanted to hire me… to draw animals?”

Sebastian blinked and his lips formed into a painful smile that might have been silly but endearing if the circumstances had been something else.

“Yes?”

His confirmation did absolutely nothing to clear the heavy fog in your head. Nor did it slow the dull thudding of your racing heart.

“I don’t… understand,” you finally said. Or more accurately, squeezed out in a quiet, strained breath. “I thought you…”

Sebastian took another step; he was in front of you now, the heat radiating off him seemed unreasonable for one person to emit.

“You thought what?” he asked, searching your eyes. “That I regretted it? That I changed my mind?”

“Well,” you stammered out, your voice gaining some strength. “Well, _yeah,_ of course I did. We… we were drinking, and you’re _you_ , and I’m _me_ , and why would you ever want me? Why would you risk your career, the company you built, just for one night on a ratty old couch in a, in a cramped, run-down apartment, with a woman who had been nothing but _cold_ to you for years—“

Sebastian moved forward the last few inches, faster than you were prepared for, and crowded you against the door. Before you could speak his lips were on yours, hot and insistent. His hands gripped your waist tightly, pushing you against the wood as you gasped against him.

He pulled away only far enough to look down into your face, eyes clear with worry.

“Uh. Shit. That’s not how—I shouldn’t have done that, this isn’t why I came over—“

You surged forward, smothering his apologies with another kiss. You grabbed the front of his coat, gripping your fingers tightly around the lapels as your mouth opened to his, begging or inviting, you didn’t know, but he responded immediately, his tongue licking into your mouth as his hands crushed you against the hard planes of his body.

You decided he was wearing too much clothing, and he must have realized the same thing; he pulled off his coat and jacket, clumsily as he refused to stop kissing you for even a moment. You had better luck, unzipping your jeans and shoving them down your hips, regrettably breaking contact from his lips as you hastily pulled them off your legs.

When you straightened up, Sebastian’s hands were immediately gripping your ass and he pulled you off your feet, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist in a movement that left you clinging to his shoulders for dear life. You caught a glimpse of his impish grin before his lips were back on yours, barely letting you catch your breath.

He was like a man dying of thirst and you were his desert-bound oasis.

Somehow, with his lips hot on yours and not looking where he was going, he made it to your bedroom. He may have bumped into a wall or two on the way, but neither of you had been paying enough attention to care, your fingers plunged into his hair and his hands still firmly gripping your ass.

You belatedly remembered the mattress and bedframe had been taken to the moving van earlier that day, leaving only the flat sleeping mat you had replaced it with. Breaking away from his lips with regret, you sputtered, “Wait, the bed’s gone.”

“Uh-huh,” was his only response and the only piece of warning you got before you were tipping backwards. You tightened your grip around his neck and gave a frightened yelp, but he merely laughed as he lowered you both down onto the mat. You could feel every muscle straining under his dress shirt and dark slacks, carrying you both with ease, and the sheer strength of him lit something deep within your belly.

As soon as you were flat on your back, you tugged at his shirt impatiently, fingers fumbling with the buttons as you cursed the fact he wasn’t already naked. And Sebastian was not helping you _at all_ ; he leaned down and captured your lips again, forcing you flat against the mat with more strength than you could hope to match. Your protests turned into muffled moans as he pushed his hips between your knees, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist as he pressed his weight on top of you.

Giving up on unbuttoning his shirt, you reached down and tugged up your own, forcing your lips apart as you pulled it over your head.

Not to be outdone, Sebastian lowered his face to your neck, kissing and sucking on the sensitive skin. Within seconds you were writhing, almost completely naked underneath him while he was still mostly clothed. It was entirely unfair and ridiculously hot, the feel of his expensive, tailored clothing brushing against your heated skin.

He ran his fingers down your bare sides, sending sparks and shivers down your spine as his hand continued its journey over your hip and down your pelvis. He slipped under the waistband of your underwear, mouthing at your collarbone as he twisted and curled his fingers around, dipping them between your folds.

He groaned and uttered a quick, _“Jesus,”_ as he felt how incredibly wet you were before he’d even truly begun.

“Sebastian,” you breathed out, half in need and half in frustration, grinding your hips against his hand as he began to rub circles around your nub. “Stop teasing.”

“Teasing?” he mumbled into your skin, never moving his lips from the column of your throat. “Some people call it foreplay.”

“Yeah, I know, but—“ You cut off your own words with a shiver, biting down on your lip as you tried not to cry out at the sparks he was igniting in your lower abdomen. “I want… you. Just you. Right now.”

His lips stilled immediately and he pulled back to look down into your face. Whatever he saw there darkened his gaze and tightened his hold on your waist.

Without a word, Sebastian leaned back and began to unbutton his shirt, fingers expertly working open the clasps and revealing his skin inch by inch. He wasn’t slow about it but it still felt like a tantalizing show, one just for you and no one else.

He slipped the open shirt over his shoulders and pulled off the undershirt, yanking it off in one smooth motion. The lights of the city reflecting off the low-hanging clouds shone through your windows, bathing his body in a faint glow, the divots and curves of his muscles thrown into soft relief.

All you could do was stare and try to remember to breathe, made harder as he reached down and unbuckled his belt. He pushed his pants down over his hips, the sight of his cock straining against his dark boxer-briefs a lovely image you wished you could commit to memory. Or better yet, replicate with graphite and ink.

Despite the fact you were both mostly naked and his fingers had been inside you a second ago, _that_ was the thing that flushed your skin with heat. You averted your eyes to his navel, but the sight of his firm and defined abs did nothing to clear the filthy thoughts from your head.

“You’re very cute when you do that,” he said with a lopsided smirk, half-leaning over you now as he tugged off his pants.

“What?” you asked, tone absent and distracted as you caught sight of his long, muscled thighs from between your legs. You had to clench your jaw not to make an obscene noise at the sight.

“When you get flustered,” he said, amused.

“I’m _not—“_

Sebastian suddenly pressed his weight on top of you, nearly covering you with his warmth, and your brain short-circuited at the abrupt contact of _so much_ skin. Your thighs, your stomach, your chest, everywhere you were touching him your skin tingled and warmed.

Sebastian smirked down at you, knowing exactly what he was doing. He opened his mouth, probably to tease you some more, but you never gave him the chance. Capturing his lips in a hard, frantic kiss, you clutched the side of his head in your hands as you squeezed with your thighs.

Moaning against your mouth, he kissed back just as firmly, tasting you on his tongue as his hands roamed down your hips. With a quick motion, he pulled your underwear down your hips, and you grabbed them to yank them off the rest of the way. Sebastian did the same to his own pair, and before you could stop yourself, you tilted your hips upwards and dragged your slit along his shaft.

His breath caught in his throat and his fingertips digging painfully into your thighs, but he didn’t stop you as you rubbed against him, shamefully needful. You wouldn’t let him pull far enough away so he could reach down and line up with your entrance; you simply continued to grind against him to the point he had to take matters into his own hands.

Sebastian gripped your hips and held you down against the mat, breaking the kiss with a shudder as he leaned his forehead against yours.

“F— _fuck,_ you can’t keep doing that or I’m gonna come.”

“Then come,” you responded roughly. “That’s not gonna stop me from getting off on you.”

With a delicious noise that was halfway between a moan and a growl, Sebastian pulled his hips back, lined the head of his cock against your entrance, and pushed. _Hard._

If you hadn’t been as wet as you were it would have hurt, but as it was, the potential pain was translated into electrifying pleasure. Your neck pulled into an arch as you cried out, your fingers digging into the muscled planes of his back.

“Oh, fuck,” he gasped out. “Jesus, give me a… give me a minute.”

“Told you.” Your voice sounded slurred, almost drugged as you grazed your lips against his hair. “Come if you have to, I’m not… gonna stop.”

“God,” he said, laughing quietly against your neck. “You are…”

You never got to find out what you were, because his lips were back on your skin again, trailing up your jaw and back to your mouth. Kissing Sebastian was almost like having sex with him to begin with, the way his lips and tongue slowly unraveled you and left you pliant and breathless.

Never breaking away from your lips, Sebastian slid out a few inches and pushed back in, sending a spark of tightening pleasure through your pelvis. He swallowed up your whine, seemed to savor it as he did it again, harder, the second time.

You had to break away from the kiss, gasping for air, and Sebastian took advantage of the moment to nip and suck against your jaw as he began to set an unrelenting pace. Each pump of his hips, every movement of his cock sliding deep within your walls, you grew that much closer to the release you craved.

And yet… you wanted to put it off as long as possible. You never wanted this moment to end, even now afraid you would wake up and it would be a dream. Reveling in his skin sliding against yours, breathing in his scent, hearing the small, breathless noises he was making as he held you close—it was all that mattered. He was your entire world, and in that moment, you didn’t doubt that you were his.

The pressure was building in your abdomen faster than you could stop it. Your grip tightened on his shoulders, your voice tightly coiled as you moaned, _“Sebastian, I’m going to, God, I’m going to—“_

His answer came in the form of heated kisses along your neck, lips murmuring against your skin. “Come for me.”

As if on command, the pressure burst without you, blooming into petals of bright ecstasy as you cried out, throbbing hot around his cock.

His rhythm faltered and his hips thrust against yours one last time. He held his arms around you tightly, long fingers gripping your hair as he moaned your name like a desperate prayer. His cock throbbed deep inside you and you shivered from the slight aftershocks of your own orgasm.

Laden with the pure bliss of your afterglow, you gently held his head in your hands and kissed up his chin to his mouth. His lips curled against your mouth, a smile you couldn’t see but could feel, and the warmth in your chest was too much for any one person to experience.

You didn’t know it could feel this way, and now that you had, what were you supposed to do now? Sebastian Stan had officially ruined you. With his fingers cradling your hair and his weight centered between your legs, you found you didn’t mind the idea.

The sudden emptiness of Sebastian pulling out and lifting his weight from your body dimmed some of the afterglow, but it brightened again when he returned with a damp washcloth. He kneeled next to you, giving you a spectacular view of his glistening skin, kissed your forehead and mumbled, “It’s a good thing you didn’t pack all the towels away. Speaking of…”

You blushed, both in mortifying embarrassment of your huge earlier misunderstanding and by the feel of him slowly and gently wiping up the mess between your thighs.

“Yeah?” you asked in an unsteady croak. The sound brought a warm smile to his lips and there was an impish gleam in his eyes.

“Where is all of your stuff? Put away in storage or moved to a new apartment?” His brows furrowed, as if something had just dawned on him. “Wait… The quitting thing, I get, but why the moving?”

You bit your lip in reluctance, knowing how extreme your answer would seem now that you knew the truth.

“I uh… Well. Some of it is in storage, the rest I sent… back home.”

He stopped wiping at your legs, staring down at you as if you’d spoken an alien language.

“You’re leaving the city?” His voice slightly cracked with the strain of his question. You could see it in his eyes too, the realization that you had planned on leaving without saying goodbye, and the pain of that knowledge was plain on his face.

“I was,” you responded, wincing. “Because I thought… I thought you wanted me to quit, so no one would find out what we did, and I took it a step further. I figured, you know…”

“You thought I would want you to leave the _city?”_ he asked, incredulous. You looked down, unable to meet his eye in your shame.

“I don’t know. Maybe? Either way, I thought I would go somewhere else, start fresh.” That had been your intention anyway, even though you’d had zero interest in picking up your life and moving on. You had still been in the grief stage of trying to let Sebastian go, and yeah, you hadn’t been thinking clearly.

Despite all of that, Sebastian didn’t look at you with judgement or anger. Going by the crease of his brows and the tight frown on his lips, he was more upset and saddened than anything.

“I’m sorry.” He took your hand in his, intertwining his fingers through yours as he raised it to his mouth and kissed your knuckles. “Really sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I was so excited about offering you the contract that I didn’t think… I wanted it to be a surprise, so I didn’t tell you right away, either. God, I’m such an idiot.”

Your eyebrows rose in disbelief. _He_ was apologizing to _you?_

“No, Sebastian, I’m sorry.” You chewed on your lips, trying to find the right words to say, to explain how you felt, but the words just wouldn’t come.

Seeming to understand you needed a moment, Sebastian settled down next to you, and finding your blanket tossed to the side he pulled it over the both of you. His close body heat was an immediate comfort and helped melt away the tension in your muscles.

You moved closer to him without consciously doing so, drawn to him like a moth to flame.

“I’m going to be honest,” you said, tracing your thumb over his knuckles. He gave you a solemn nod to continue.

“Someone like you? They don’t end up with someone like me.”

Already he opened his mouth to protest, and you plunged forward before he could interrupt.

“It’s true, all right? That’s just the way things are. I’ve accepted it. Or I did, until that night. So I thought, when you wanted to talk… I mean, I thought you had regretted the whole thing after sobering up. And I wouldn’t have blamed you, really. It hurt, yeah, it hurt a lot, but… I just told myself to stop being delusional. That you didn’t owe me anything after a night of sex.”

He spoke your name, softly and filled with emotion, but you weren’t done yet and had to keep going before you lost your nerve.

“And then it turns out that’s not the case at all, that you really are a great guy, and it just proves the fact that I’m _not_ good enough for you. It’s only been a _week_ and look at what I did. I fully intended to run away because of a simple misunderstanding.”

Your eyes burned as your vision blurred, throat tightening up with the pain that settled deep in your chest, and you said, “Why would you want to be with someone like that? I’m a _mess_.”

Sebastian didn’t speak for a moment. He looked over your face in a slow way that was almost unsettling, his gaze so heavy you struggled not to squirm. Finally, he gently pushed a strand of hair behind your ear and his expression lightened.

“You know more about me than most people,” he said. “And not just because it was your job to know these things. I showed you parts of me no one gets to see. You know for a fact, as Monica and Mackie can confirm, I am _also_ a mess. Do you think well-adjusted people have nowhere to go on Christmas Eve, to the point where they have to have an employee come rescue them in the middle of a snowstorm?”

You snorted and immediately covered your mouth, horrified, but Sebastian only gave a self-deprecating grin. After a moment, his expression grew more serious.

“This job, this contract, I want you to have it no matter what. No strings attached. It doesn’t matter if… if you want to be with me or not. This isn’t a quid pro quo situation. You are a talented artist, and I could really use the help.”

He licked his lips and swallowed hard enough for you to see his Adam’s apple move.

“That being said… if you _did_ want to pursue a relationship…”

You recognized the unsteadiness of his tone as nervousness, his eyes wider than usual as he looked down into your face.

“…you would be free to do so. If that’s something you wanted.”

The serious apprehension on his face, coupled by his almost formal tone made you think of a business proposal. You knew that wasn’t what it was, he had just said as much, but it was sort of fascinating to see him take this as seriously as he would if it was a company matter.

You pretended to think for a moment, the tip of your tongue pressing against your upper lip. His eyes followed the movement, and you didn’t miss the way his nostrils flared as he watched you.

“Will the pay be better than my last job?” you asked, deadpan. He blinked, lips slightly parted in surprise. You added, “Just… curious. I could barely afford this place to begin with, and now I gotta find a new apartment. And with rent always going up in this city… plus you have to factor in all of the art supplies I’m gonna need—“

Not for the first time that evening, and probably not the last, your words were swallowed by Sebastian’s urgent kisses, his lips desperate on yours as if it was the last time he would taste them.

You moaned and wrapped your arms around him, happily sighing as he moved his chest on top of you, pushing you down into the mat.

“Is that a yes?” he mumbled against your lips, barely letting you up for air let alone to give a proper answer. You hummed and squeezed him tighter, letting your body convey all the assurances he needed.

It felt as if you were saying ‘yes’ to much more than a new job. You were opening the way for a new life, one that included a man you had thought would want no part of it.

There was no friction, no difficulty or unnatural feeling with returning to his arms, not once you’d opened your heart to him again. Like Pandora’s box, there was no closing the lid, but you sensed that Sebastian knew that. He already knew how fragile you were despite your rough exterior, or maybe because of it.

It was scary as hell to let someone in, letting them get close enough to hold your heart in the palm of their hand. But if there was anyone who would be gentle and kind with your heart, who would treasure and protect it like a precious thing…

“So,” he asked, somewhat breathless as he finally released your lips, his eyes bright with a warmth that felt like coming home. “I take it you’re going to need a place to stay until you find a new apartment. I happen to have a very large, very expensive couch that’s currently unoccupied. Apparently, it’s so good Mackie can’t shut up about it. Would you… like to break it in?”

…it was him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed seeing more CEO Seb because I sure enjoyed writing him. The song prompt for this chapter was "Dynasty" by MIIA, which is a very sad song and really only applies to the first part of the chapter because I am a sap and needed a happy ending. I hope y'all don't mind.


End file.
